The Merging [Chapter V]

[Silver Eyes]

Bullets hailed, bombs detonated, flesh and bone were torn asunder, the ground cracked, there was a flash of light, clouds of dust rose and the first of many rifts were sealed with great effort. The winds, mixed with both the heat of the supernova and the chills from the north, tossed her violet locks--the braid did help to keep herself from getting constantly whipped in the eyes by her hair-- and tattered, red cloak around Amoura's body. Amoura puffed out a sigh, rubbed dust out of her eyes, cocked her guns and went to close yet another out of, oh, hundreds.

When all was calm in Hallowton she came out here to try to quell the invaders coming from other realms. Last time she had to get rid of a horde of zombies, a few dragons, misguided Chinese merchants, a circus of green skinned, purple eyed humans and an army of little blue creatures. It was a culture shock seeing all of them come pouring in with different languages, clothes, mannerisms and so on. It was times like those she was grateful for Telekinesis; she had to throw the blue army through the rift since they were throwing their little spears at her.

Amoura shook the distractions out of her head and decided to take care of the next rift closest to her. Nothing was coming out today and it was the perfect time to seize the opportunity. The Night Angel extended her taloned hand, curled her fingers in, blue blushed along her features and the rift sealed itself just as a large spear came barreling out, nearly taking her head in the process. Did people have armies set up around these?

Note to self: stay out of line of sight.

Another thing puzzled Amoura: Other had been quiet for more than a week. She always had something sarcastic or witty to say but not lately. Had she decided to be quiet or was she too busy looking through her memories?

There was no time to look into any suspicions; her gut gave off a warning that something was about to happen. But what? Amoura shrugged, turned around and nearly walked right into a worn-down wall. The hell? Where did this come from?

Puzzled, she ran backwards to get a good view of what had appeared from, well, no where; it was the remains of a tower. Time had been cruel to the large structure, as it always is. Once upon a time this must have been quite a sight but now it was just a shadow of its former self. Amoura kept her hands close to her guns and immediately went into a more stealthed mode to avoid detection. There were plenty of shadows to hop around in.

She stood over one, sank down, appeared inside but kept herself well hidden. This place somehow looked familiar but she couldn't put her finger on it. With that eerie feeling at the back of her mind she continued to lurk around--not that there was much to see on the surface of it all--for anyone that could be within.

[Tajna Rasha]

The woman’s efforts were commendable, her vampire skills peerless across many realities even – but nothing she did could truly shake that feeling out of her mind. The ancient, corroded marble exterior adorned with intricate designs of a war between humans and devils. Angelic faces twisted in grotesque shapes mocking their divine beauty. The smell. The smell of the blood that had been spilled in ages past for the construction of this place still lingered after years of its destruction. Where was she? Her eyes scanned for a clue as to how she had somehow landed in such a place outside of the Downward Spiral without falling into a rift. And just as she did, she saw them again: The angel statues. She has seen them before, and despite their broken frame she could never forget their shape – they had stood on her bed rest in her days at her father’s side. Seven perfect figures, mutilated into idols of sin… They were the hell bells. A sharp breeze rolled through the ruins, and it was like she could hear the ring again. The seven notes of Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth… and Wrath. With only an echo it was still like hearing the maddening symphony of the opening gates of hell. And there she stood in the ruins of what had once been considered the very apex of her own homeland.

She was in the Temen-Ni-Gru.

The realization sunk in like the intensifying smell of blood in her lungs. She followed the stench, if only to see what matter of nightmare would dare reside over the graves of millions. The shadows kept her safe, though from what, not even she could say. Still there was that feeling. Like nausea threatening to take her any moment – that strange elation of all senses one got before stumbling upon a terrible thing. She often got that feeling. Then she smelled rotting flesh. She half-expected to be assaulted by her own visions again, but very much like that voice inside her head – they too had been leaving her relatively at peace with herself. She continued onto her approach, encountering a lone skeleton that had since long been stripped of all his parts by the ravenous denizens of the fallen tower. And another. And another… Each leading her deeper within the demonic citadel. Slowly she would find one that had only been partially claimed; his clothes and body, although rotten, still among his possessions. Again, that strange feeling of displacement occurred, as though she had just missed something out of the corner of her eye. She lifted her gaze, only to see what seemed to be hundreds of the same corpses each wearing the same aristocratic royal-purple attire and the same defeated expression on their maimed faces. It was Sparda. They were all corpses of Sparda.

‘‘Strange, is it not?’’

A chill ran down her spine. In that moment. Twenty-five years. The sound of that musical voiceless rasp was like a thousand needles in one’s heart. Bright opalescent blue eyes opened beyond the veil of darkness. They smoked a mystic haze, as though they were ablaze with a tangible flame, basking the carnage under an unnatural azure luminescence. And there it was, standing in black garments, as she had last seen it.

‘‘No matter how far you stray you always return to us.’’

The literal ghost of her past – Tajna Rasha.

[Silver Eyes]

The angels seemed to haunt her every step, lurked in the shadows much like she did and almost held an air of taunting at what she had become--the reminders of what she once was were never far away be it from memories or inanimate objects. Once upon a time she refused to come to terms with her heritage but the fear had long been shed.

Mask on to lessen the smell, she continued to make her journey down the time-worn passage. Dread made each step heavy. If she still had a beating heart it would fight to burst out of the ribcage. That's one sensation she hadn't missed. There was something amiss about this place and the "decorations" weren't the source. What was this feeling that kept stabbing through her thoughts repeatedly from familiarity?

Then, like that of an unstable nightmare from an unorganized mind, the corpses of Sparda appeared as the source of the rot that made her eyes water. The mask helped to quell some of the discomfort but her finely tuned senses were merciless to her; it still came on nearly full force. Amoura had used this tactic against Sparda to train him but she didn't expect to see it beyond her control. At this, she felt an empty coldness expand in her gut--it was fear. That only intensified when she heard a familiar voice greeting her ears.

Tajna? It couldn't be! Amoura quickly put distance between them but kept her hands from her guns and tried to relax her posture. Why fight against something that will just plunge her into insanity? There was a reason for his appearance, amongst other things (she tossed a surveying glance at the unsettling scenery) and it was time to find out.

"You're not the only thing I end up 'returning' to. Unlike the others, you've always been here whether most care to like it or not."

The vampire wet her chapped lips. Everything was on high alert for the slightest movement; it would do little good in this situation. "You've been to different timelines so you know what I'm going to ask. Are you going to answer them?"

Why did he throw her into another realm? To weaken her resolve against the enemy? And why was he here? Or better yet: what was going on? Maybe he could tell her the whereabouts of some missing people.

[Tajna Rasha]

The wraith remained perfectly immobile even as Amoura quickly took it upon herself to back away in a defensive position. As swift as her senses had flared in full alertness to his presence, however, so too had she forced herself to face her foe in an unorthodox fashion and stayed her guard. The motion, although anticipated – as all things were with the Ghost of Legion – had not gone unnoticed. In a subtle, ceremonious fashion, the spectre brought his trydactyl digits up to the hood of his cloak and pulled it back, revealing the blue-complexion of his demonic skin along with silky threads of black hair that fell just along the sides of his masked visage. Were it not for the setting and Tajna’s haunting return, the gesture would have almost been deemed a reverence. ‘‘You learn your lessons…’’ Came the telepathic whisper once more, before the ghost dropped his gaze for an instant, admiring the view of its enemy’s countless carcasses. ‘‘Quicker than others at that.’’ It added, bringing about a sharp silence between the two. Moments eternalized themselves, as the notion of time often proved fleeting around the Council member, and for this one time it proved to be excruciating.

‘‘We will indulge you.’’ It finally spoke.

‘‘You’ve nearly reached your prime, and yet stay your weapons against one such as us.’’ Tajna remarked freely, taking notice of her visible efforts to take the situation under an illusion of control. ‘‘Strange how the flow of time coincides with one’s growth – both in cunning and power.’’ It continued, further proving to Amoura just how far her interlocutor’s knowledge could stretch. The clawed hands of the spirit drew away from the hood and dropped to it’s side, rippling the dark cloth over the skeletal shape underneath. ‘‘Even though every fibre of your being wishes nothing more than to lash out against the instrument of twenty-five years of torture, against us, you recognize the fleeting essence of this conflict in face of the gravity of current events.’’

A flash of light traversed Tajna’s eyes, almost as if in an instant the Ghost was looking into a different spectrum of reality.

‘‘Your sire had opened the doors, but you were not yet ready to cross their threshold and blossom – that is why we organized your exile – to ensure your ability to meet your fate.’’ Tajna ended it there, knowing Amoura’s next words would prove crucial to her own understanding of what needed to be discussed next.

[Silver Eyes]

"If one wants to survive then learning quick is key."

The Ghost of Legion would be an impossible foe to defeat should combat be engaged. He knew of all that she would attempt to try, the amount of damage it'll cause and how to counter it efficiently; she'd be killed in different timelines and the floor will be covered in her corpses with Sparda's. In short, the madness she had sought to avoid would no doubt descend. It was an unsettling thought to say the least but possibilities should never bet dwelt on when the source of her worries was not doing any harm. For once an enemy--Amoura was questioning what side he really was on for the present-- was willing to talk.

"Time changes all. It just depends on if its for the worst or the best." It felt more like a mix for Amoura but she had emerged from that realm stronger in some ways and weaker in others. "As much as I loathe your existence for what I had to endure, fighting right now won't solve the matter at hand."

Her sire. Amoura stopped herself from asking for his whereabouts or if he still lived--there were other, much more important things to be asked and discussed as much as she hated to admit that. Why would Tajna want her to be ready for her "fate"? What was in store for her? The future was an open book for the Ghost but it was locked away for the curious hybrid. To ensure time resumed as it should he could not inform her.

"This isn't even a question because it's painfully obvious: the universes are merging." That one question about her "fate", amongst others, remained; it was the itch she couldn't scratch. "All may end up destroyed if that happens. Am I wrong in assuming this?"

[Tajna Rasha]

The ghost took note of the Daughter of Mundus’ position. She had indeed grown to become a useful asset to their cause – willing or not. Tajna waited for the woman’s rebuttal, and although the answer was already conceived before the question left her lips, a pointed pause swept from the shadows and between the two.

‘‘You are wrong.’’ The words might have well been a dagger piercing through Amoura’s heart. ‘‘Look beyond the obvious to find an answer.’’ And that, the twisting of the knife. ‘‘Your observation although astute, is only in a primitive stage of cognisance: You have encountered the remnants of other realms, beings that do not belong on this soil.’’ The wraith slowly walked closer to Amoura, stepping into the gentle moonlight and fully revealing the ritualistic designs of the cloth that concealed the deathly figure beneath. ‘‘Maya, Beelzebub, your old friends…’’ Tajna subtly moved a hand, as though dismissing the thought of those who were mentioned. ‘‘Their presence and the merging, however, does not inherently destroy – it brings about an imbalance, and that shift in order brings about the First Aspect.’’ Tajna would not miss the gleam in the woman's eyes: The simple mention of that name brought about such a tension even the spectre could feel it. The nudge at Amoura’s senses was nearly tangible. The underlying fear… ‘‘The First brings prophecy, and prophecy spawns death.’’ Palpable.

‘‘You know of what we speak…’’ and there was the reason.

[Silver Eyes]

Well, if he ever were to host Jeopardy, that show would get off the air faster than one could blink. Humor wasn't acceptable in this discussion and it was promptly ignored. So he wanted her to look beyond the obvious, and the "beyond" already slapped her across the face with all the hints he had dropped. The realization was enough to drain any remaining color from her features. "If all the realms merge then every single being, construction, alter-selves and so on will be in one place." The imbalance. The Arashi spoke of this and had sought to even the scales. Now they were broken and if that was the case...

"It is the harbinger of Its return and It shall send forth it’s terror into all the realms. Everything… Shall die. In seven days the world was made; when the time comes, there shall be seven days of peace before the world comes undone." Amoura recited but it was for herself to try to grasp the severity of it all. Again, it all was revealed and it was terrible.

"The Three are meant to bring the balance--this much I know--and because of the imbalance...its terror will be sent into all realms. This is becoming the realm." The more she talked, the more she hated it but it had to be done. Ignorance wasn't bliss and it never will be. Story of her life. Amoura pulled down her mask, ignoring the stench of the corpses, and looked to Tajna. Her silver eyes were widened with fear.

"The final sibling is the end. She will see to it that all existence is eradicated. There would be no need for scales if there's nothing to keep balanced..." This was far worse than she had imagined. "Is this why I was shown all those prophecies? Because they knew it was coming?"

[Tajna Rasha]

The words of the prophecy boomed amidst the shattered halls of the Temen-Ni-Gru as they poured from Amoura’s minds and rolled off her tongue like a venomous invocation.

‘‘Yes…’’ The monosyllabic response echoed as though suspended in time. It repeated itself, over and over, until its meaning finally sunk it. All moisture was sapped from the air as if the simple annunciation was enough to strike fear within the atmosphere. And in that same moment, the incessant nightmares of the Arashi were given sense through the ghost’s answer. Decades of madness. Decades of torture. The highest denominator in the Amoura’s life for the past thirty-so years… All summed up in nothing but a few simple terms. And all that time it had laid literally in front of her eyes. By that the time the maelstrom of thoughts had brought her back from a near-catatonic state, the phantom stood only a few feet away from her – its ice-cold gaze staring unapologetically into hers. ‘‘And it will come.’’ It added grimly, reminding her of whom she was addressing. Despite its altruistic demeanour, to contradict this truth would be as futile as confronting Aper himself.

A ripple traversed Tajna Rasha’s body just like if the air had risen dramatically, and in a dim flash of oceanic energy… The Council Member was gone.

‘‘We know it is inevitable.’’ The voice came from behind. And there, further along the decomposing pile of bodies, stripped of the black garb that hid the azure, torn cadaver, stood the ghost. Kneeled over one of Sparda’s many copies, Tajna took it upon itself to interject before the question could arise within Amoura’s mind. ‘‘We have sent ourselves in the future of this timeline to try and unravel the course of these events...’’ It explained, before turning towards the woman once more and rising to its full size. Tattered wings beating lazily in an unnatural breeze, the phantom was truly clad in the image of an angel of death. It approached again, uncharacteristically moving step by step through space rather than skipping the transition through a rift in time. The words came with each tap of its feet against the cold marble floor. ‘‘We never return.’’ Tajna stopped again, only a few feet away from Amoura, the veiled visage looking back at her with an eerily composed allure. This brings about only a narrow vision of possibilities: The future is a timeless space where our powers hold no sway, or we simply cease to be upon arriving.’’ There was a significant pause in the ghost’s speech.

‘‘The universe will be void as it once was.’’ And there was the how. ‘‘Before the word…’’ The final gambit. ‘‘Before the bang...’’ The conclusion of her eternal plight.

‘‘True annihilation.’’

[Silver Eyes]

The Night Angel hated accepting the inevitable; futures set in stone. Was it fair to those who had no idea they were the source of the imbalance? Deja vu. Amoura pinched the bridge of her nose, expanded her lungs and expelled a breath--right now panic was the enemy. There was always a way around annihilation, there had to be, but if Tajna had been to the future, different timelines, and so on then there really was nothing she could do.

Or was there? Tajna did speak of her not being ready for her fate; what was it? He was giving answers and he might shed some light on this subject. Amoura turned to face the Council Member and could care less if he knew what she was going to ask.

"What am I preparing for? If it's for the end then what would be the point of having my powers develop only for it all to be destroyed? I know it has something to do with the Third. It's obvious. What am I meant to do?"

Until she had to stare it in the face with no way out Amoura was not going to admit that the end was coming for all. Apocalypses had been stopped before and this one could be too. Tajna had been to the future; but had he been to the events preceding it? Possibly. But time was like a still pond; one pebble can ripple the entire surface.

[Tajna Rasha]

And here was the statement Tajna Rasha had been waiting to hear. Time after time – even after knowing every word, knowing every inflection and feeling between the syllables, the ghost never stopped to be taken by the woman’s composure in face of death, and her most feared enemy. Even after hearing it a thousand times, the spectre came with a solitary answer.

‘‘You do not fail to impress even one such as us, Amoura Ethelia.’’ Said the voice, before the Council Member sunk back into thought. The apparition closed its incandescent eyes in quiet reflection: The future was such a certain thing, at least from Tajna’s perspective – yet no matter how many times the ghost had attempted to rewrite history, fate had a way to adapt itself to every possible variable in its grand design – and the Night Angel had somehow inspired the bitter yet irrevocable notion of hope within the phantom. It such a curious thing how one’s conviction proved contagious even in the undeniable certainty that all things would perish. The ghost opened its eyes once again, fixing the demoness intently as it knew what it had to reveal.

‘‘We hold no interest in the destruction of all the realms – and the means to one’s end may only be achieved through the survival of another’s.’’ It began, slowly pacing in a circle around the woman and the mass of corpses beneath them. ‘‘The truth of the matter is; we have tried to elucidate the mystery behind the coming of the Third an infinite amount of times: We have travelled through timelines and dimensions in order to murder anyone who ever had a hand in it.’’It explained, the characteristically frightening echo dropping an octave, each of Tajna’s words black with contempt. ‘‘Even in a world where the prophecy does not technically exists, it always comes to pass.’’ The ghost stepped into a shaded area, disappearing behind Amoura amidst the darkness. ‘‘Every single time, your eyes gaze upon the mask of the First.’’There was a pointed pause.

‘‘It always begins with you.’’

Like Validus before, the statement might have well torn the heart right out of her chest. ‘‘And we have attempted to kill you in an effort to stop it.’’ Like Veran, the declaration could have simply drowned her under an ocean of blood. ‘‘No matter our method, we inexorably fail.’’ The affirmation; shatter her like glass. ‘‘You survive; you somehow persist in your existence and the End always comes.’’ The assertion; gouge her eyes out. ‘‘You are linked to the fate of all things Amoura: We believed that by stealing one of your incarnations – by stealing you – and putting you in an alternate dimension where you could grow more powerful, that you could find a way to divert us away from total oblivion.’’ The explanation; rape her. And there it was, propelling her back and forth between the then and the now – an eternity of torture… for this.

[Silver Eyes]

‘‘You are linked to the fate of all things Amoura: We believed that by stealing one of your incarnations – by stealing you – and putting you in an alternate dimension where you could grow more powerful, that you could find a way to divert us away from total oblivion.’’

That explains why Validus killed her. It wasn't because the Council and Devil May Cry were enemies at the time but to prevent this from coming to pass. Yet death never stopped her permanently; every time it came to claim her at last it was chased off once more. But why?

‘‘Every single time, your eyes gaze upon the mask of the First."

Masks. That's what all of the aspects had say for the final who's features were shrouded. Amoura closed her eyes and pictured them in her head. The Night Angel had to sort through memories to get some idea. The First Aspect came into view. In memory he was terrifying to behold.

"The Gate is prepared! The evil that was once vanquished shall rise anew. Wrapped in the guise of man shall He walk amongst the innocent, and Terror shall consume they that dwell upon the Earth."

The vampire knew Tajna wouldn't interrupt her while she mused over this and he knew what conclusion she will reach. Amoura planted her taloned hand on her head, gritted her teeth and delved deeper into her memories to dig up what she wanted to forget.

"‘‘Balance… You shift it with your presence here, your existence. Qu’est-ce que vous cherchez? Wussten Sie suchen Zuflucht aus Ihren Erinnerungen - Ist das warum Sie den Toren überschritten? Il mondo è rotto… What matter of thing are you, mulier? Vastaa Arashi!’’

It was there but somehow beyond her reach. Amoura started pacing over the bodies, not paying attention to who was rotting beneath her, and continued mulling over the prophecies, the conversations and so on.

Why did Aper spare her? Why didn't Veran just kill her? Why was she the first and possibly the only one who saw these prophecies on a daily basis for years? Why did death not claim her for good? Why didn't The End have a mask? What could possibly be so important about a messenger or the means to awaken an Arashi? Anyone could wake them up! Ranka had the memories and now Chloe did—if her sire wasn't around then Chloe could be the means to an end. The End.

No, she was more than a messenger. Amoura's eyes opened and she looked to the Ghost with a grim expression. It all became clear in this instant. The inability to stay dead coupled with Tajna not able to kill her off in different times; what else could explain this? With a sigh of resignation to the twisted workings of fate --by the gods she hoped she was wrong in saying this--she finally spoke:

"Somehow, someway, I'm the Third, aren't I?" That wasn't all she had to say, "And if the obvious is in fact not true then how am I supposed to stop this from happening? I could barely scratch the previous sibling and I sincerely doubt that all my power could stop The End."

[Tajna Rasha]

Tajna’s eyes dimmed like dark amber as the woman reiterated thoughts that had once plagued both of them. The resolution was so simple, so obvious it was a wonder the realization did not dawn on a single soul until this point. The progression of the crescendo that was Amoura’s life was so flawless the finale could only be epitomized with that very conclusion. And yet the ghost remained silent. Tajna spun on its heels, hands clasped behind the ragged wings that acted like a torn cape. For the first time since the woman had known the phantom, she saw it struggle – no – hesitate with a response. As though on cue, Tajna’s voice came in a reticent wave of decibels.

‘‘Herein lies the paradox of this meeting, Amoura Ethelia…’’ Said the ghost, before finally turning to gaze back at its interlocutor. ‘‘We cannot answer your question.’’ There was a long pause as the weight of that response sunk in: Tajna Rasha, the ghost of the Council of Legion, the omniscient time-bending force that had brought the Legendary Dark Knight to his knees and slain well over a hundred times over the course of a single fight… mystified by a single question. The first and only question where the answer could truly avert catastrophe. The only question that needed answering. That damned question… ‘‘We believe you and the Third have a link – that much is certain – but it is impossible for us to see beyond the end. We can only assume, seeing as you are now the only unique specimen amongst your other incarnations due to our interference, that you have the sufficient tools to steer away from your path and find a solution to our common dilemma.’’

[Silver Eyes]

"It's obvious." Unable to die or stay dead. Nothing could make her return to the depths of hell after she climbed out. So many things should have destroyed her but they didn't! From the ashes of unanswered questions rose more. There had to be more to the prophecies! An answer. Something!

It is the harbinger of Its return and It shall send forth it’s terror into all the realms." Amoura clasped her hands behind her back and resumed pacing. Looks like a headache named "prophecy" will be taking hold soon enough. What matter of thing are you, mulier? Balance… You shift it with your presence here, your existence." Dammit. There's few answers to find there and much of the prophecy entailed sacrifice of blood and the end of all things. Amoura was growing more and more frustrated with each unsuccessful minute ticking by.

It was there; the answer. It was dangling in front of her face and taunting her. What. Was. She. Missing?!

"Tajna there's no way I can avoid my fate if I don't know what it really is. I don't have that kind of power. What's more is you weren't meant to know it either so there can't be interference. Somehow I'm the Third. What other reason would there be for utmost secrecy?" But how would she become The End if she was right? "I suppose defiance is the only thing I can do for now."

[Tajna Rasha]

The spectre’s answer, this time, was total silence…

‘‘Foolish girl…’’ The words were black with contempt. In contrast with the previous moment when the vestiges of Tajna’s omniscience had been broken due to Amoura’s flawless reasoning, this time the woman’s response had inspired nothing but pure disdain in the ghost’s mind for the same being it had invested so many efforts into preparing for Armageddon. Just as the Council Member glared unapologetically into her eyes a few feet away from her, another apparition swept from under her vision to grab her by the throat; returning the same callous gaze all the same. The motion was so unexpected reacting to the assault would have been nothing short of impossible: The iron grip was surely strong enough to crush raw stone – and that same hand was clasped firmly around Amoura’s trachea. Her eyes darted from her interlocutor to her attacker; both standing in two very different places at the very same time, and both very much clad in the skeletal frame of Tajna Rasha. Amoura had never seen it before with her own eyes, but there she stood at the mercy of the same ability that had brought Sparda to his inevitable end. Like lightning strikes scarring the darkness, more of Tajna’s incarnations came into view in quick successions of azure flashes, covering the décor with their haunting images. They all starred at her.

And this wasn’t a nightmare.

The original was still distinguishable from the others, for it produced a wraith-like blade from its hand. It blazed like an unnatural blue flame, fit for nothing but cut through the souls of its victims. And the ghost approached Amoura, brandishing it nothing but inches away from her. Like Aper before, the daughter of Mundus was cruelly reminded of overpowering nature of her adversary. In that instant, Tajna showed why it was part of the Council; for it was legion. The edge of the mystical blade was so close she could feel the cold pull of death reaching at her core. ‘‘Measures of power are futile when speaking of the Arashi.’’ The combined speech of the ghosts nearly fractured the mind; Tajna’s eyes shone like infernos. ‘‘If you choose to fight on a front that cannot be conquered, it would be as though you wielded the very axe meant to claim our heads.’’ They added, pointedly making point of her stupidity and the situation: Amoura knew fighting the End could never compare to fighting even someone as the Ghost of Legion. And her lungs were on fire. About to burst. She needed air. And as quickly as the claw had grasped her throat, the grip finally loosened – leaving her airway open to absorb revitalizing breaths of oxygen. She reached the floor with a resonant thump, and just as the sound reached out to the Temen-ni-Gru, every image of Tajna Rasha had disappeared save for the lone spectre wielding the spirit-sword. The lone figure observed the woman for long moments, until finally the flaming sword retreated back into its hand along with the blaze that had lingered within its gaze. Now animated with their characteristic, chilling light, the eyes of the wraith softened before it turned around and began walking back to the shadows where Amoura had discovered her old enemy. The deaf sound of footsteps was overshadowed by the numinous voice. ‘‘There are beings in this world, however, that act beyond the simple shackles of fate.’’ The allusion was clear. ‘‘You know of whom we speak…’’ Tajna stopped, allowing the woman one final glance. ‘‘Seek her out and solve this matter.’’ The ghost receded back into the darkness, leaving nothing behind but the freezing sensation of its passing.

The dissonant, now distant voice left with one final echo.

‘‘Never forget that the storm is at your heel.’’

[Silver Eyes]

Foolish girl. Foolish girl. That was something him and Validus had in common: they dubbed her to be one. Well, this 'foolish girl' knew one thing amidst this horrible display of Tajna's unbridled power: he won't kill her. He'll show her what she had gone against, what he could do but too much effort was spilled into making her what she is now to just throw it all away because of her reasoning. Amoura sealed her eyes and endured the temporary torment. Since when did she need to breathe? With her throat so tightly clenched in his hand she suddenly felt, no, needed to expand her lungs. Finally, precious air rushed in and brought sweet reprieve while she was on the floor gasping and coughing.

‘‘Seek her out and solve this matter.’’

Amoura said nothing. Her silver eyes stared down, refusing to make contact with the Ghost. No sound, no movement; she was a statue right now with a mind moving too fast for her to comprehend anything. Silence finally greeted her ears as did Tajna's final words. Finally, she sat back and tilted her head to look up at the new constellations since the roof of this place had long since disappeared.

Without warning, her features were contorted in anger and she unleashed a scream that would have easily taken her vocal chords permanently if it weren't for her heritage. The Night Angel had it. The prophecies, the long spans of woe in her life, the torments—all of it. Hadn't she suffered enough for her deeds under her father's reign?

"Why me?!" She screeched while kicking at anything in her path. This was building up over the years and it was all coming out at once; the dam had been shattered. "Why force this on someone at all?! Why?! WHY?! WHY?!" That was always the question: Why me? Why not someone else? What did I do to deserve this? The ruins had become her outlet. Stone cracked from her strikes, items were toppled over and her rampaging didn't stop.

Blood dripped from her shredded knuckles, her talons were dented and scratched, her armor was wrecked, her cloak even more tattered and her hair was freed from the confines of the braid. Amoura screamed again, this time tears streamed down her face and she fell to her knees while grasping locks of her violet hair in her hands. The last time she had wept like this was when...

Amoura reached for her neck and pulled a leather, corded necklace free from within her shirt. From the middle hung a beautiful, well cut crystal that sent out small dots of light around the room with thanks to the moon. While grasping it in her fist, she leaned forward and kept sobbing hysterically. Why couldn't it have stayed like the time of childish wonder towards the always consistent stars and ignorance to the sorrows that would soon fall in her path. If there even was god, he had a fucking terrible sense of humor.

The Night Angel wiped her tear-stained face with her cloak, finally able to gain enough composure to think. There was no point in returning home while in this state so she laid on her side, curled in a little and let the gem rest in front of her eyes. It was the last thing she saw before drifting off to a deep, dreamless sleep.